Knowing
by equine02
Summary: A snapshot from Saunders' childhood. Enjoy!
1. Knowing

**Okay, so I got off my writing craze a while ago, but I feel so guilty for never picking up again. Plus, I'm trying to get ready for Christmas, juggling depression and exhaustion, and all that, so it's been insane balancing** ** _that_** **, and I'm homeschooled, so no pre-Christmas luxury…. Yup, chaos…**

 **I hope Saunders understands: )**

 **Okay so, I don't know the details of Saunders's childhood, but this is my take on it, so, yes, I do love reviews, and I know you all have brains out there, so please use them to send me a nice, encouraging review! I love hearing what you all think, and everything ranging from pointers, ideas, prompts, anything!**

 **See you at the end of the story,**

 **Equine**

 **Disclaimer: I bet you don't know this yet- they aren't mine! Surprise! Cake anyone? (Don't know why I said that, I really want cake right now!)**

This is a story about when I was a boy.

It feels like such a long time ago now, because then it was… then, just then. Now it is a forever ago, and I still look back and wonder how I got this far, and how far I have left to go. War really makes you think, like every moment begins to have more meaning. Each time a second passes you are unmistakably closer to death, though how close, it is uncertain.

Just like we watch out the windows for people we love to come home, well, that's how I used to live my whole life- in excitement, at least until my father died.

Oh, but there was never a dull moment with three boys in the house, the youngest just a baby.

Well, it happened on June fifth, whichever year it was I was twelve, sometime in late day. I remember because my mother sat on the porch, one leg crossed over the other. She had her hair down, and it glistened chestnut against her shoulders. She was watching me teach Joey how to properly climb a tree so that he wouldn't fall over on his face. Now Joey must have been three years old, but I, a twelve-year-old boy, didn't know that this was far too young an age to attempt climbing a mighty oak. In the end, Joey did fall on his face, but Mother only smiled as we sat there trying to figure out what part of the operation had gone wrong. My seven-year-old brother, Henry, came around from the back of the shed, holding a tiny black mouse cupped in his hands. The creature quivered and rolled it's tiny, ink-dark eyes at him, and of course, Mother rushed off the porch and told Henry to release the poor animal because it was frightened. Reluctantly, he set it down, and it scampered off into the tall grass without a sound or a single glance over its shoulder. Of course, Henry had been scolded, and he felt pretty bad about it; he hated being scolded by Mother. I knew it dented what little pride he had left since Father had died. He used to be very close to our father, and they did all sorts of things together- I think that's what made Henry feel needed. But now he was an empty shell, and showed the world what they wanted to see, not what he was. Mother knew that, I knew that.

So, I let mother take Joey inside, because he was getting hungry and I went after Henry, who I knew was going to his favorite place.

Through the trees beyond the house, right where the sun sets on western horizon, there lies a little clearing in the shrubbery- if you go there today, chances are good that it's still there. No larger than a puddle, a "pond" sits amongst it, and on either side, two logs, which we had rolled there three years ago. We called the place "Doorstep Grove," because three feet away was a little shed, and one of the logs was only a short distance from the doorstep. I found Henry there, his skinny arms wrapped around his legs. He was staring at a dragonfly. I paused a minute to admire the sharp glint of the sun on the pond, and how it reflected on the dragonfly's gossamer wings. The insect, once it realized it had an audience, flitted off, never to come calling again, I'll assume. I never saw another dragonfly on that pond after that day… Maybe because I stopped going there after Dad died, and this visit would be one of my last before I realized there was a world beyond that house and it's surrounding forest.

"Henry," I sat down next to him, "Mother's just trying to keep you safe." I put on my big brother voice, straightening up, and sitting next to his little brother.

Henry ignored me and picked up a nearby stick. He began to draw patterns in the water.

I tried again, taking a different and completely random approach, "Did you see Mr. Lodsky today?" I was referring to a childhood game we used to play- me and Henry, we'd sit and talk to our imaginary friend, Mr. Lodsky. Some days I wished he was real, so I could have someone to talk to, besides Henry.

Henry dropped the stick in the pond and watched as the ripples matured into larger rings.

"No. But I saw a deer. Over there." He pointed to a thicket, through which the setting sun had begun to glow.

"A buck?"

"No, a doe. A tiny one. She was very quiet, I would'a missed her, only…." he looked down. "Someone was hunting."

I looked up sharply, "Someone shot her? Here?"

"Yes, a man. With a big black hat, and an angry face." He tried to mimic it with his seven-year-old expression, and failed hilariously.

"You could have been hurt, though, Henry. Why didn't you tell us?"

"Because…. Mother. I was afraid she was going to scold me, like all the other times. With the mouse… I was only trying to have fun. And it was a nice mouse, wasn't it, Chip?"

"Yeah." I stared at the pile of dead leaves steeping in the murky water at our feet. The sun was lower now, and I heard the screen door open, before Mother's voice rang out through the property, "Dinner, boys! Chip, don't forget to make sure you lock the shed and check the gate!"

"Comin'!" we yelled.

I stood up, holding out my hand. "C'mon, Henry, dinner's waiting."

"Okay."

As he stood up, he asked, "Chip, why do you have to do all those things- check the shed and gate?"

"Because I'm older."

"You mean 'cause you're the oldest boy in the house?"

"Yeah, guess so."

"Do you miss him?" Henry looked up at the sky like he was checking for a falling star, "Daddy, I mean?" He kept staring. The stars began to dust the night sky, like spilled rice.

"Yeah. I do," I turned. "Guess I got used to being a kid, I want to help Mother, its just-"

I almost smacked myself. What was I thinking, spilling my troubles out on the kid?

"-hard? I know." Henry looked up at me wisely. All I saw in those two huge galaxies that were his eyes, was admiration. "Chip? You want me to check the gate with you?"

I grasped his hand a little tighter, somewhere inside me knowing that there would come a day I wouldn't be able to hold it anymore.

"Sure, kid. I'd like that."

 **So, what did you think? Thanks so much for reading, and I apologize for any mistakes. I'm a little shaky about posting this; a guest recently reviewed in a really inappropriate and hurtful way, and I couldn't really get back on my feet very fast.**

 **Again, thank you all so much for reading, and have a great week!**


	2. Russel

**Chapter two everyone! Thanks so much to Churchlady63, who is constantly inspiring and encouraging me, and thanks to all my readers, you know who you are, so be proud of it and enjoy this fic! BTW, I decided to write from another POV in this chapter, just because I liked the way it flowed.**

 **Disclaimer: Nuh-uh. Nope. Nada. Zilch. No ownership here. I'm sobbing: (**

Sergeant Chip Saunders swept off his helmet and tucked it under his arm. In one motion, he ran his grimy hand through his even dirtier hair while sucking in a tired breath and sitting on an over-turned grocery crate. The whole town, destroyed by bombs and shells. All of it- no thoughts on the people who once lived there, only the fire, death, and then the silence. Just ghosts of memories now, not even that. He'd never seen their faces; they'd been too late to evacuate the town.

Already he'd lost Lawrence and Casey, two green replacements fresh from HQ. Caje and Nelson were wounded, and the rest of his men were just tired. Worn down to the very bone. And he had to admit, the last time he'd felt this bad was Omaha Beach. Before that…. Well it was a different kind of tired, a nice kind. Where your muscles ache with exhaustion, and the whole word glows in afternoon splendor. He remembered this one night…

* * *

(Flashback)

"Chip, where is Louise?"

"She's sitting with Henry," Chip replied stretching. He glanced up at the two. Ten-year-old Henry Wilson Saunders sat with his baby sister on his lap, bouncing her lightly. The last of the winter sun glinted off their skin, and from afar, the two were like a pair of angels. Chip stood up and mounted his bicycle yelling, "Mom, I'm heading to Clark's house. I promised him I'd help to find Russel."

"But Chip, it's almost five o'clock." She appeared in the doorway, hair wild and falling out of its loose braid. She sighed, watching as her teenage son sat perched in a position that spoke volumes of his need to get out some energy. "All right." She glanced at the sky. "But it's chilly, and it looks like a storm, so be careful and don't be out long, you hear?" She smiled. "Now off with you."

"Thanks," he flashed her a grin and pushed off, pedaling down the driveway, and sharply left.

All the way to Clark's house, he kept his eyes open for Russel, Clark's little sister's missing dog. The mutt had been astray for three days, and Chip had a feeling that it had either died, or been stolen.

"Clark," he announced his arrival, ditching the bike against a small tree. It wobbled under the tiny amount of added weight. "Find anything?"

"Nope. But Sadie is going crazy, and I think she's gonna blow if we don't find him soon."

His friend sat hunched on the steps of the house. His brow was furrowed as he studied a piece of paper. When Chip sat down next to him, he saw that it was a map of the town, with small markings all over it, paths and X's. It looked like some kind of treasure map to Chip.

"Here are all the place's we've found him before, whenever he ran off. So… that's where I figure we ought to look. First I'm going to go here." He pointed to a house on the map.

"Has Russel ever run there before? I thought the Reed family only moved here a week ago, or at least that's what Lily Reed said."

"Well…. No, Russel has never gone there…." Clark answered slowly. The sixteen-year old looked up a Chip with guilty eyes. "But…"

"Ahhh," Chip reclined, keeping his expression neutral, "Lovebird." A moment later, the map smacked him in the face.

"Well you like Colleen!"

"Not anymore." Chip ran a hand through his hair. "She's already got a sweetheart. But…" he sat upright, "I bet we can make Lily like you, if we really tried."

"What about Russel?"

"That dog is _always_ going missing, he'll come back!" Chip, in a moment of unprecedented enthusiasm, dragged Clark into the house. "You ought to comb your hair to wave in the front, like Gary Cooper does." They stopped in front of the hall mirror.

Clark tried; he really did, but without anything to hold the wave, it only flopped back onto his forehead.

"If only we had some hair gel. My Dad has some." He glanced wistfully at his reflection in the tarnished glass.

Chip looked a Clark, and Clark stared back.

"Should we?"

"NO." Clark backed away from the mirror, "No way. Dad doesn't think I should even go for girls till I'm older."

"You're sixteen."

The boys looked again at each-other via the mirror.

"Okay. But if we get caught, he'd gonna kill me."

"We won't," Chip answered seriously. "Now where does he keep it?"

* * *

Thirty-seven minutes, several groans and excruciating second opinions, courtesy of Chip, and two exhausted boys later, they were done.

Chip had to admit, Clark did look pretty good. The wave was gelled to perfection, and he was dressed in plain black pants, a button-down shirt, and a argyle vest over top. He looked very sharp, despite how lanky and pale he was.

But it was almost dark out, and they didn't even have a plan to get Lily's attention.

"I've got it," announced Chip as they walked the long street in the glow of evening. "Why don't we knock on her door and ask if she's seen Russel?"

"Yeah, that'll work." But Clark didn't sound too sure of the plan.

* * *

A minute later they arrived on her doorstep. Chip regained his serious composure, choosing to remain silent and only stare emotionlessly at the door-knocker, bidding his friend to knock.

Clark laid three raps on the door, and stepped back.

A boy about their own age answered. "Hello? I'm Russel."

"HI, uh…" Clark faltered, glancing helplessly back at Chip for help. The younger boy buried his grin of amusement, and coughed importantly. "Uh, is Lily home?"

"Yes. Why?"

"We'd like to- that is- uh, never mind. I've got to go…. Get…. Dog," he turned around, grabbing Chip by the arm, and whispering, "She might as well be married to the fella, the way he says her name!"

"He didn't say her name," Chip smirked.

"Well, if he did…"

As they were walking down the street, Lily's voice penetrated the dimming lights of evening.

"Wait, Clark, Chip! Hold on!" She trotted up beside them, pulling on a coat over her cardigan and dress as she walked, "where are you going?"

"We were just walking. Lovebir- uh, Clark here was wondering if you-"

"Nothing." Clark stopped and looked at Lily, "…. But I was wondering, who's your friend?"

"Russel? He's not my 'friend.'" She laughed, "Oh is _that_ what you were running from? He's my _brother_!"

"Oh, well, gee… that's…." Clark shot a look of sudden triumph at Chip, "Swell! Say, Lily, do you want to walk with me?"

"Sure." They linked arms, and Chip was left behind, smiling quietly to himself. Through the growing darkness, he walked back to Clark's house, and picked up his bike. He began to pedal home.

By the time he got there he realized that half of his trip was already forgotten; he slid off the bike, exhausted, and leaned it up against the porch steps.

"M' home." He hollered, shedding his coat. It was only now that he noticed the bits of snow melting on it. He glanced through the window at the swift flurries.

"Mmm," his mother hugged him, "You're so cold, Chip! Come eat some dinner, then you'd better be off to bed, love."

Chip thought that nothing in the world could sound so sweet.

 **So what do you think? Please let me know, and thanks for reading!**


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